


Trowa Barton: Private Dick

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-31
Updated: 2009-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Barton knows all about thugs and cons so what is he going to do with the high society gent who just walked into his office?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trowa Barton: Private Dick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darthanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darthanne/gifts).



> A/N: As with most hardboiled detective stories our hero uses a lot of slang. If you are not familiar with the colloquialisms of the 1920s you can find a listing of them here: <http://local.aaca.org/bntc/slang/slang.htm>

It was a hot day in the cold city and I was thinking about closing the office early, maybe head down to Heero's joint for a little something to take the edge off, before going back to my place for some shut eye, when he walked in. He was blond, not the kind to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window. More like an altar boy looking for a place to worship. The suit he wore must have set him back more than my whole wardrobe. It and its owner made my battered chair and scuffed up desk look even worse than they normally did. Not that I cared; money had never impressed me and this guy wasn't about to change that. Even if he was Quatre Raberba Winner, the only son of the guy who owned half the businesses in the city and all of its politicians.

I waved him to a seat and sat back down behind my desk ignoring the creak of the slats. One of these days the back is going to fall off, but until it does I'm not shelling out any cash for a new chair. He kept his trap shut, smiling as he crossed his legs and straightened the crease in his pant's leg. His hat, which looked like it belonged to Bogart himself, went onto his knee before he opened his mouth. "You are Mr. Barton I presume?" I nodded. In my business you learn to never give up anything you don't have to. "I have a small matter that I need your assistance in taking care of. It will require the utmost discretion, but I'm willing to pay whatever it takes."

Something in my gut was telling me this guy was trouble and my gut knew trouble. Too bad this wasn't just some joe off the street I could give the bum's rush. I'd seen his mug in the society papers usually with some doll on his arm and his wallet out. I'm no sap; I was willing to let him give me some dough though I'd pass on having my picture snapped. Wufei would be around with his hand out for the rent on Monday and I didn't have a nickel to my name. I needed some jack and blue eyes could supply it.

A hundred dollar bill appeared on my desk with a friend to keep it company. "Is that enough? I can pay more if you need."

"That's a start." I told him, slipping the bills into my pocket. "What's your beef?"

He leaned back in the chair as if it was something ritzy from New York instead of a gin joint throw away and beat his gums for a while. It turned out my client was the kind of bird who preferred the company of gentlemen. Only he didn't like them to be gentle, just men. Rough with a dangerous edge was the game he played only someone had found out and decided to make book on the deal. He pulled the note he'd gotten out of the breast pocket of his suit and handed it to me. The writing was chicken scratch but I could make it out well enough. Whoever it was wanted fifty grand or he would spill the whole thing to the press.

I squinted at that note, checking the name and address against the handle he'd given me. He watched me and raised an eyebrow when I shrugged. He might be important uptown in the boardrooms, but here he was just another pigeon and since my name was the one on the door it was my rules or I didn't play ball. "If you're looking for someone to take this guy for a ride I can give you a couple of names. I don't do that, but I will rough him up a little."

Winner shook his head giving me that sweet little rag a muffin look again. I wasn't buying it. "I don't think there is a call for violence. Just explain to him that I am willing to make a one time payment of twenty five thousand dollars if I can be assured that I will never hear of this again."

I made my voice hard, pressing him to see if he would break. "He gets his hooks into ya for twenty five gs you'll never shake him loose. He's gonna keep bleeding you until you run dry. That's how these guys are. If he sees you as a sap then you might as well just hand over the keys to the bank right now.

His already light skin went pale enough for me to see the freckles on this nose, but he screwed up his face and stuck, holding his ground. "Violence is such an ugly thing, Mr. Barton. I'm sure if we find out who is behind this we can find a way to negotiate a reasonable agreement, like gentlemen."

"This is the city, Mac, gentlemen are in short supply."

"Perhaps that is because the demand is so low." He straightened the crease in his trousers again and flashed me another smile, one that looked like an angel and felt like a devil. After giving me the low down on all the people that might have information on his activities we parted ways. He went back to his mansion up on nob hill and I headed over to Heero's for a stiff one.

To the people he doesn't know Heero serves only java, but if you get the okay from his lieutenant and barkeep, Duo, there is a back room with more hooch than my new client had secrets or dollars. Duo and I go way back. We were kids together and ran in the same gang until he got pinched by the bulls for stealing. They shipped him upstate to some orphanage. He was there until he met Heero and they decided to leg it back to the city.

The place was hopping when I stepped inside. Relena, the songbird, was on stage singing about some chump that did her wrong. Her voice is as smoky as the room, but a damn sight easier on the ears. As usual Wufei was at the first table where he could keep an eye on his woman and warn off anyone who got big ideas. There was always some guy wanting to make himself out to be a big cheese by having her on his arm. Lucky for Wufei she thought he was the cat's pajamas and wasn't having any part of the other poor saps. I caught his eye and waved him over. He gave me the fish eye when I paid him what was owed and a couple of weeks in advance. No matter how many times I tell him what I do is on the level he doesn't believe me.

I was feeling flush so I ordered a scotch instead of my usual bathtub gin. Heero poured it himself then came around the bar to warm the seat next to mine. "You've got a client." It should have been a question, but Heero knew all the dirt, and was my best snitch when I could get him to spill. Sometimes greasing his palm would do it, but there were some secrets he wasn't going to part with.

The scotch was smooth and I tossed it back knowing my glass would be refilled as soon as it hit the bar. Heero obliged and I sipped this one enjoying the taste. "What do you know about my new client?" No point wasting time. I wanted the low down and he knew it.

"You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he's trouble." Heero poured himself a slug and drank it. "The women love him and every one of them wants to be the next Mrs. Winner."

"Is there anyone that thinks she's got him on the hook?"

Heero gave me a look and finished off his scotch. "If his father has his way it will be Dorothy Catalonia. Her family's millions want to get into bed with his and Mr. Winner wants grandkids to pass all that money onto."

I raised an eyebrow and considered that. "I thought she was engaged to that Marquise, Peacecraft."

"Not officially. Peacecraft is broke and her grandfather would give up a title for money. He can always buy that later."

"What about the dame? Who would she pick?"

"Someone who won't try to push his way into her bedroom." Heero refilled his glass and took another drink. "That would be your client. She's known him since they were kids. I wouldn't be surprised if they had something already arranged. People with money don't think like you and me."

I thought about this. From what I had seen and heard, Dorothy Catalonia was no dumb dora. If she knew about Winner she wouldn't waste her time blackmailing him. Why use that kind of dirt to get a few nickels when it could buy her the whole pile; that and a husband who would stay the hell out of her business. Not that I was going to scratch her off the list. Dames were unpredictable and dames with money were used to getting their own way. I put her on the back burner and threw a couple of other names at Heero. He had nothing on them so I finished my scotch and headed home. The booze was good and the jazz was jumping, but I had a job and I couldn't afford to waste any more time on the hair of the dog.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was on my second cup of java when my secretary, Cathy, poked her head into my office and announced I had a visitor. Cathy's a great gal, she was balled up over some palooka when we met, but I got her straightened out. Since then she considers me the kid brother she never had and I watch out for her because she needs someone to. Most of the strays she takes in aren't as nice as I am, but that doesn't stop her. She makes a mean cup of coffee, handles my calls and makes sure I eat three squares a day even if one of them is a sinker and a cup of joe.

"Miss Dorothy Catalonia is here to see you. She said a friend sent her." Cathy's one of those people who shows what she thinks on her face and I could tell she was thinking this dame was a bearcat.

"Let her in, but call in ten minutes and remind me about my appointment."

Cathy nodded and I knew she was good for it. She's always been aces at following my lead.

For the second time in as many days there was a leggy blond warming my office chair. Where Winner had given off too much heat she was colder than an icehouse in a New York winter. She was dressed like a million bucks with platinum hair that fell past her waist and the strangest eyebrows I've ever seen. The sneer on her lips told me all I needed to know about her. Bumping her off was an itch I wanted to scratch and she hadn't even opened her mouth yet. The look she gave me said she had me figured for someone who was all wet. Maybe I was, but everything I had in the world I'd worked for which was more than she could say. That put us on the level as far as I was concerned.

"I have no idea why Quatre hired /you/. I recommended Pinkerton because of their outstanding reputation." She gave me another cursory look that implied that my reputation obviously needed some help. "He never listens to me. Always has to do things his own way."

She got right to the point. I had to give her that much. Mentally I gave Winner an attaboy on making up his own mind and not just because it put money in my pockets. She tapped her nails on a bag that cost enough to pay my rent for a year, not bothering to hide her disgust. I wanted her out of my office, but I needed some answers first and that meant biting the bullet. "I've heard that you want Winner to put a handcuff on your finger."

She snorted, showing herself for the dolled up tomato she was. "The man that told you that needs to lay off the gin. Quatre and I are barely good friends."

"What makes you think it was a man? Dames talk too when you grease their palms." I filed the familiar use of his first name. Miss Catalonia was not one to show respect unless it suited her needs.

Again with the snort, but this time the look on her face would have curdled fresh milk. "The /dames/ that are close enough to me to know wouldn't dare tell stories out of school. I expect complete loyalty from my ladies and I am willing to pay dearly for it."

"What about the men?"

"I expect nothing from them and have yet to be disappointed." She raised one of her strange eyebrows at me and I could feel the prick of a knife between my shoulder blades even though we were face to face. She was no push over I'd give her that.

"What about your father? Or is he the exception?"

She shrugged. "At least with him the disappointment is mutual so there are no illusions to be shattered for either of us. Not that I don't enjoy crushing people's dreams. I find them to be so much more accommodating once they understand the harsh realities of life."

"What about Peacecraft? Does he disappoint you too?"

"He's a man." She uncrossed her gams and picked up her bag preparing to stand. "Was there anything else or are you through rifling through my trash? I find the stench of this part of town too much to bear for any length of time."

She was trying to get a rise out of me and I wasn't going to bite. I knew a distraction when I saw one and hers was as obvious as a stockyard in July. "Who would want to blackmail Winner?"

The eyebrow went up again making me want to reach for the fly swatter. "Anyone who thought /he/ could get away with it. Quatre's loaded as I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Barton. Sadly he is much too nice for his own good and people will always take advantage. Don't you agree?" She tossed her hair and stood without waiting for answer. Without looking back she strolled out my office and I hoped, out of my life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once I was rid of Miss Catalonia I sent Cathy for the mail and headed down to Winner's office. His secretary, an efficient jane by the name of Lu informed me that her boss was in a very important meeting, but would see me if I cared to wait. It was close to an hour when the inner door opened and The Marquise stepped out of Winner's office. He gave Lu a look that lingered on her nicely curved chassis before settling on her face. She blushed, but didn't look away when he took her hand and kissed it. He had charm alright and she wasn't about to give him the high hat that's for sure.

Lu seemed to have forgotten I was there so I let myself in. Winner's office was all woods and leather like he was some kind of country lord. All that was missing were the paintings of hunting dogs and a collection of animal heads. He waved me to a chair without looking up from what he was doing.

"The Marquise is making time with your secretary."

"My cousin."

"Your cousin is your secretary?"

Winner set his pen down and looked up. The cheaters he was wearing went on the stack of papers he'd been reading. "My previous secretary left to get married and Lu is helping me until I find someone else."

That put a new spin on things. Unless Lu was a country cousin she would be someone The Marquise might be giving a second look. "Does this mean he's reconsidering his proposal to your fiancée?"

Winner smiled and his eyes went cold. "If you are referring to Miss Dorothy Catalonia then you're greatly mistaken. /If/ I wanted a girlfriend, which I decidedly do not, she would not be my choice."

"Does she know that? Word on the street is she's gearing up to be your ball and chain."

"Dorothy and I grew up together, Mr. Barton. We know each other's interests as well as we know our own. She no more wants to be my wife then I want her to be. I try to be discrete about my activities for the sake of my father, but I will not enter into a loveless marriage for the sake of Mrs. Grundy."

"Whose wife does she want to be?"

"That's not really mine to share now, is it?" He leaned back in his chair, the ice in his eyes melting like a scotch on the rocks left too long on the bar. "I can tell you it is not the Marquise."

I considered this tidbit of information then filed it away for later. My instincts were telling me that someone was not being on the level so I stowed the third degree for now. There was no point in wasting my breath. I stood and nodded at my client. "Time for me go earn some of the dough you're paying me." Without waiting for an answer I flew the coop.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From Winner's office I headed out of the high rent district. My next stop was Schbeiker Salvage. It was down on the docks and while Heero knew all there was to know about what happened on the right side of the tracks Hilde Schbeiker was the one to go to when you wanted to know the dirt on the city's less refined citizens. She's got a bad temper and right hook to go with it, which most guys learned the hard way. Me, I'd seen her knock someone cold at Heero's place one night just for making a crack about her hair. Since that I've tried to stay on her good side. That last thing a hardboiled guy like me needs to have it known he got knocked cold by a dame. I figured if anyone knew who might be bragging about coming into some money soon it would be her. That and I needed to get the stink of money gone bad.

I found Hilde sorting through scrap in the back of her dad's yard. The arms and legs of her coveralls were rolled up and she looked like a kid playing in her daddy's wash. As usual her hands were stained with grease from turning a wrench all day. The hammer in her hand was singing a tune as it bounced off the engine she was trying to get loose. I stood where she could see me and waited until she stopped before calling her name. She wasn't skittish, but I like my hide too much to take the chance. Her frown didn't change, but she set down her tool and came over to where I was standing wiping her hands on a rag.

"Barton." Hilde's not much for small or social graces.

"I'm looking for a man." I told her, never been one for the fine art of conversation myself. I usually had better things to do then stand around flapping my gums.

She gave me a look that said a lot if you knew the key to decode it. Unfortunately I was born without whatever it is that lets dames read each other's minds. Maybe it's part of why they run in packs. "Any man or do you want someone special? A blond maybe?"

I had the good sense to ignore her needling. If I was looking for that kind of fun I knew where to find it on my own. "A certain someone. He might be blond or might not. I do know he's young and about to come into some serious dough."

"Would this someone claim to have knowledge of an uptown dandy?"

I nodded. "Or have a pal who does."

"There's a guy named Peter Murray who comes around once in a while to sell scrap; he might know something. He's got a lot of friends though none are the kind that stick around for more than a few hours."

That sounded like what I wanted to hear. "Any idea where he flops?"

She shrugged. "Check the union hall if he's not there someone is bound to know him." Five crisp new dollar bills disappeared out of my wallet into the pocket of her coveralls followed by another five when her hand stayed out. I like my skull in one piece so I anted up. "My next night at Heero's is on your tab. You make sure he knows."

I'd gotten off easy since she knew I was on a job and could pay, but it didn't mean I was over the moon about it. A night of drinking was going to set me back some serious green, but if this tip paid off I'd have Winner's little problem solved and another wad of his dough in my pocket. I could afford to be generous if it kept Hilde in my back pocket.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Murray wasn't at the union hall, but one of the guys who knew him was happy to rat him out for a few bills. Money from a greased palm spent as easily as what was earned from a hard day's work. It probably went to fill the flask on his hip instead of his belly, but that was no skin off my nose as long as his information was good. I found Murray warming a stool down the street at a rundown gin joint. It was the kind of place where they didn't ask your name or business. From a distance he looked like a dandy, but close up you could see the lines and red eyes of a guy who spent too much time with a bottle of rotgut.

I slid onto the stool next to him and anted up the price of a drink. He wasn't jazzed yet, but he was going to be soon. I offered him the glass and he took it without so much as a how do you do. When it had gone down he signaled to the guy behind the counter for another. "Five dollars and you pay for any place ritzier than than out back." He gave me a solid looking over and put his hand out. "You don't look like no piker, but you never can tell. I get my dough first."

That threw me for a loop, I knew Winner wasn't the kind to go goofy over some sap, but I hadn't taken him for someone who paid for his fun either. That thought left me feeling kind of let down as if what my client did meant more than cash in my pocket. I nodded and stood to leave figuring he would follow me out. Out front he slipped past me and turned down an alley. I checked to make sure my rod was in my pocket before I followed him. I'd stowed it there earlier, but you can never be too careful. The alley was dark and I lost him in the shadows for a minute. When I caught up he was leaning against the wall, trying to keep his balance as he undid his belt with the clumsy fingers of a lush. I slapped his hands away and he growled at me then lurched forward trying to land one on my kisser. His breath smelled like cheap gin and I almost upchucked. I backed away and he followed me. "The bank's closed, Mac." I dodged another grab and shoved him away from me. "I just want a bull session and you can keep the fiver." He shrugged and did his pants up again, willing to sell whatever would get him another shot of hooch. "Word is you are about to come into some dough. What kind of caper are you planning to pull to get it?"

His eyes went shifty and he edged away from me. "I don't know from nothing." He made a break past me and this time I slugged him. He whimpered as he stumbled back

"Look pal, I'm no sneak and I don't want a cut, just the low down on the job." He slumped back against the wall, crossed his arms and dried up. I grabbed his shirt and punched him once just to give him the idea. "Either spill or I'll beat it out of you."

The guy was a rat, but it wasn't like nobody was home. Worlds started pouring out of him like a beer truck after a raid. His friend Eddie owed him big and Eddie had a plan that was about to pay out and he'd promised to pass some of it Murray's way. Eddie was short for Edward Cantrell and he ran errands for an auto shop on Fifteenth Street called Holloman's.

I left Murray in the alley and beat it back to my office. Knowing that Winner wasn't making time with that pushover squared him in my books again. Playing a hunch I spent a dime and called my client to find out if Holloman's was where he left his car. I played it close to the vest and told him I had a lead, but I'd come by his office tomorrow once I'd followed it up. He pressed me for details, but I rang off and headed back to my place. I could hear the phone ringing through the door as I locked up, but I ignored it. Stewing overnight would be good for Winner. He was used to having things his way, but we were on my turf now and I was setting the rules. That's the thing with clients, give them too much and they think they can do your job and leave you holding the bag.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

I took my time the next morning. The air was steamy and I knew where the man I needed to talk to would be all day. Getting there early would mean he'd be hung over and not much in the mood to tell me what I wanted to know. I'd rather give him a few hours and a couple of nips in the closest joint to soften him up before I started asking questions.

It was close to noon when I strolled into Holloman's. I had a flask in my pocket, a roast beef on rye in my stomach, and I was ready to tackle Eddie Cantrell. It didn't take me long to find out that Eddie hadn't bothered to show up for work that morning. No one seemed surprised or cared so I shrugged it off. It cost me the flask to get the address of his place, but I figured I would either get the cost of a new one out of Eddie or add it to Winner's bill.

Eddie's place was old with a darkened brick outside and an inside that smelled like a bull's socks after a day of walking the beat. He lived in the back, apartment number eleven. I knew as soon as I knocked on the door that he'd gotten the last set of snake eyes he was ever gonna get. Death has a special smell and on a hot day it didn't take long to perfume the air. I used a handkerchief to open the door and looked around making sure not to touch anything with my bare hands. Eddie was in the middle of the room on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had probably been a sheik when he was still breathing, but now he just looked dead.

It didn't take me long to toss the place. Under the couch was a bottle of Scotch that would have fetched five dollars a shot over at Heero's. Seems like Eddie's taste ran to the swanky unlike his pal Peter. I pocketed it and the wad of cash I found under his mattress. For someone who ran errands he had a lot of green. Either I had heard wrong or his sideline was paying out. Either way he'd been holding out on his buddy. Peter wasn't going to be happy when he found out he'd been played for a fool. On the top shelf of the closet there was a box with two letters to Winner both in the same handwriting as the one I'd read. I added the letters to my loot and let myself out after wiping down everything I touched.

I took extra care to make sure I wasn't seen when I beat it out of the building. The last thing I needed was for some flatfoot to try to pin the murder on me. I'd never survive being a fish. I'd had too many guys pinched since I hung up my shingle as a dick. Having bulls hanging around the office gives my clients the heebie-jeebies which means they don't want to spill their troubles.

The money and expensive booze were eating a hole in my gut. If Eddie was bumped off because of the blackmail caper then I'd led the torpedo right to him. But if that was the case why leave the scotch and dough? Either the shooter was sure of himself or Eddie was running more than one game. The world wouldn't be a worse place because he was dead, but I didn't like being double crossed one bit.

It was dark when I got back to my office, but I'd made a decision somewhere around the fifth gin joint I'd stopped in. I was going to find who killed the poor sucker and if it was over something else then we would part ways. I'd go back to my office and not think about the poor bastard again. But if he was blond and had more money than Fort Knox he was going to pay no matter how much of a swell he was.

There was a light shining through the glass window in the door even though Cathy should have been long gone. I was going to bust her chops if she'd stayed late waiting for me. One of these days she'd learn not to do that. I pushed my way in, ready to give her what for and found her perched on the edge of her desk making time with Mr. Moneybags. She flashed me a smile that had a knife in it. "Oh, there you are, Trowa. I was just keeping Mr. Winner company while he waited. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on staying." I pulled my hat off and frowned. I might have been a little tanked, but I knew when I was being treated like a flat tire by my best girl.

"Thank you, Miss Bloom. I had a lovely visit. I'll see what I can do about getting those tickets for you. We opera lovers have to stick together." He kissed her hand and Cathy blushed like she was a flapper looking for a daddy. If I hadn't known he was all wet he'd have gotten the bum's rush. I'm no bluenose, but Cathy is no pushover either.

I pointed Cathy at her purse and coat then locked the door behind her. My hat went on the rack and I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt while I thought about what I was going to do. Cathy's chair wasn't as comfortable as mine but it would do for sitting so I settled myself in it and looked him hard in the eye. He didn't blink or flinch, just raised a single eyebrow.

"Eddie Cantrell's dead."

He frowned. "I'm sorry, should that mean something to me?" His choirboy game was getting on my bad side real quick. I knew the kind of games he played when the lights went out and there were no angels then.

"He was one of your gentlemen friends." It has been a shot in the dark. After all Eddie could have seen or heard something. I didn't know for sure he's been one of Winner's special pals. "Did you know who it was when I called last night or did you have someone go over there and lean on Holloway until you found out who worked for him? Did you bump him off with your own hands or did you pay some torpedo to do it for you?"

"I assure you I did nothing of the kind, Mr. Barton." Winner kept playing that innocent tune and damn he knew how to make it sing. He moved his chair closer and rested his hand lightly on mine. "I wasn't lying when I told you I was desperate, but I could never hurt another person. It's not in my nature. You have to believe me, I had no idea anything had happened to Eddie until you told me."

"You lied about knowing him." The soft fingers that stroked my hand had nothing on the well turned shoe working its way up my trouser leg.

 

 

A pink tongue darted out between parted lips and he sighed. "I know. I wanted to spare poor Eddie some embarrassment. He's dead now, what does it matter what he did or who he spent his time with? We should let him rest in peace."

I knew I was being played. He'd worked me from beginning to end and I'd just followed one step behind like a schoolgirl with a crush. I should have pushed him away and told him to scram and saved some of my pride. When a perfectly manicured hand slid the suspenders off my shoulders I knew I was in deep. His fingers worked their way down lower to my lap and there was nothing innocent in how well he knew his way around. The choirboy had beat it and in his place was a devil in a double breasted suit. I’ve never been one to fight temptation when it’s offered so I gave in and let him take me to hell.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was late morning when I cracked open an eye. I was stiff in all the right places and feeling like the cat's pajamas. Winner was gone, but I figured he would have beat it before it was light enough for anyone to see him. Thinking about it had me balled up wondering what I should do. I was acting like some dame carrying a torch instead of the hardboiled gumshoe I was supposed to be. Clients were just clients, frame up or no. At least Winner hadn't set anyone else up to take the fall. He'd been smart that way. Just did the job and left it for me to find knowing I would clean it up. That was fine, just ducky.

I spent most of the day walking around the city letting my dogs lead me wherever they wanted to go. It was almost sundown when I came to a stop in front of a familiar looking building. My feet had made a decision even if my head was still working it out. Across the street there was an alley so I ducked into it to wait and watch. It was full dark before the working joes and janes leaving trickled down then stopped. It cost me some rubes to get past the doorman and into the building, but there is always someone who is willing to let his palm be greased.

I snuck through the building like a guy on the lam until I got to Winner's office. He looked from his work when I walked in, my rod in my hand. His eyes were calm behind a pair of gold rimmed cheaters that made him out to be older than he was. I guess he figured I would end up here just like I did. I think I knew it too. We stared at each other, neither one of us wanting to break away and lose. In the end he was the bigger man; nodding to the cabinet where he kept his booze he offered me a drink.

When I didn’t answer he got up and crossed the room like I was holding a bouquet of poesies. He poured two glasses, toasting me with each one as he tossed it back. The second one hit the counter with a crash covering the sound of a gun firing. I grunted and dropped my gun as a bullet grazed the length of my hand. The bastard had shot me!

“Sit down.” Winner pointed towards a chair on the other side of the room. “I need to explain a few things and you're dripping blood on a very expensive carpet.”

I sat down and pulled a handkerchief slowly out of my pocket and held it up for him to see. I'd already taken one bullet and I figured Winner for an itchy trigger finger. While I was turning it into a makeshift bandage I tried to think of a way out of the jam I was in. The thing was if he was going to take me for a ride I wanted to know the truth first. Winner owed me that much. Cathy's always said I have muscles then brains and I proved it right then by shooting off my mouth. “You killed Eddie.”

“No, I didn't.” He shook his head. "I planned to buy him off like I told you when we first met. Murder is a dangerous business, Mr. Barton. Trowa. It's not one I have any desire to branch out into."

“Then you had someone do it for you.”

"If I had wanted him dead I would have hired someone to do that instead of engaging your services. I'm told there are people who are quite capable of doing your job as well as making sure that small problems do not become big ones. I'm not in the habit of paying two people to do the job of one man.

That I could believe. Winner might be a big cheese, but he wasn't the kind to play fast and loose with his dough. Still that didn't the feeling in my gut kept gnawing. "Funny how he got himself killed right after I talked to you.”

This time my gibe bounced right off of him. He shrugged and smiled a little. “Coincidence perhaps? I wasn't there so I really couldn't even make an educated guess.”

I snorted. Any flatfoot worth his salt knew that coincidences usually weren’t when you started digging. “Who did you tell?” Winner’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. I’d hit the mark for sure. So he didn't knock off Eddie, but he knew who did. He was protecting someone.

“No one, I was alone when I took your call and I didn't speak to anyone about it.”

His answer was smooth and a little too quick. I leaned back in my chair sure I'd hit on the truth. "It was the Catalonia dame wasn't it?"

He sniffed like some high and mighty gent. "Miss Catalonia and I were here until well after midnight discussing her latest business venture. After which she went straight home and retired for the night."

I gaped like fish. "Horsefeathers! You just said you were alone."

"Of course I did and it's true, but the police will believe what I tell them and understand the need for discretion so as not to sully Miss Catalonia's reputation."

I could see the writing on the wall and it was saying I wasn't going to win this one. “So what happens now? Are you going to shoot me and get your coppers to hush it up? Say I was a burglar or that I tried to knock your block off?”

He laughed and returned the gun to his pocket. “Certainly not. As I said, this is an expensive carpet and it's almost impossible to get blood out it. The question is what am I going to do with you? You are quite a resourceful man and I would hate to have your skills go to waste. It's just a matter for determining what it would take to earn your loyalty."

Using my foot I tilted the chair back up onto two legs and smirked. “What makes you think I have any or that you've got what it takes to earn it?" I let the comment about getting blood out pass. Some things you don't wanna know about a guy who has the drop on you, especially if you are talking business with him.

“Every man has a price, Trowa. It's just a matter of finding yours. I doubt it is something as simple as money?" I snorted. “No? Perhaps power or a /respectable/ position within one of my businesses?”

I pulled out my jack knife and started cleaning my nails. "All of that is stuff for stiffs who don't mind working themselves to death. It you wanna buy me you're gonna have to do better than that."

"Why don't you tell me what it is that you want then, Mr. Barton and save us both some time."

I closed the knife and put it back in my pocket, taking my time. He'd been sweating me this whole time and I was going to give him back some of his own. "You know what I want. Lay your cards on table or fold your hand."

"I see." He crossed back to the bar and poured two more drinks, this time offering me one instead of tossing them both back himself. “My life has become much more dangerous lately and I have been thinking about taking Father’s suggestion to hire a bodyguard. The job would pay well of course and it would require who ever I hire to be close to me at all times regardless of where I was or what I might be doing. Tell me, Trowa, would you be interest in such a position?”

I considered the offer. I was pretty sure it was on the up and up and a guy like me wasn't going to get a better chance at the big time. "If I close up the shop Cathy'll be out on the street. I'm not going to leave her to get hitched to some bell bottom or make a living as a hoofer. She's got to be taken care of right or it's no deal."

"As it happens I'm looking for a secretary. It seems my cousin is marrying The Marquise and will be leaving the country in three weeks. For some reason all of my secretaries seem to find rich handsome men to marry."

That was news to me, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It would be a great gig for Cathy and I would still get to see her most days. I knew I should say no. Throw the job in his face and walk out. I could go to the cops, tell them my story and get laughed right out of the station. Money talks and the Catalonia dame had enough jack to hire the most expensive mouthpiece in town. She would walk if she even got pinched at all. It was the brass ring or my pride in a bare knuckles bout. Winner set down his glass and loosened his tie, leaving it around his neck as he undid the buttons on his jacket. What the hell, who needs pride anyway?

I stood and offered him my hand to shake but he kept undressing, sliding his jacket off of his shoulders and letting it drop on the floor. "Come here, Trowa." He beckoned to me. "A deal of this magnitude requires a much larger gesture than a simple handshake."


End file.
